


Ties That Bind

by Jackdaw816



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Banter, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It, Flirting, Fluff and Humor, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, Light Angst, Redemption, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:28:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28564335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackdaw816/pseuds/Jackdaw816
Summary: Even Time Agents aren't immune to the twisting strands of time, and sometimes, they take the path no one was expecting(Or how season two might have gone had John been part of the team)
Relationships: Gwen Cooper & John Hart, Jack Harkness & John Hart, Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones (background), Jack Harkness/John Hart (Past), John Hart & Ianto Jones, John Hart & Toshiko Sato, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Owen Harper & John Hart
Comments: 38
Kudos: 47
Collections: Torchwood Fan Fests: The Year That Never Was Fest





	1. Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang - Jack

**Author's Note:**

> So, I have been wanting to write an AU like this since forever, but I finally got motivated to start it by one of my prompts for the gift fic. I quickly realized it would be a massive undertaking and wrote another gift for them. BUT I did not abandon it because I love it, and since it's canon divergence, boom, posting it for this fest. Chapters will be posted sporadically as I am not done, but I will not abandon this (hopefully because I know better than to promise.)
> 
> Prompt: Connections

John’s chest stung from the bomb digging into his flesh, his wrist ached from the hypersteel cuff, and although he presented a fairly cool exterior, internally, he was panicking. He was going to die. Blown to bits in a car park in Cardiff. What a shit way to go.

A bright red sports car screeched into the car park, Jack and his medic bailing out. Ah, a pretty sight to see before he went. Or maybe that last-minute rescue he’d asked for.

“Now what’s he doing?” John asked as Jack ran at them full tilt, something in his hand. He didn’t have time to think before Jack crashed into him and stabbed a needle into his chest. “Get off me!” A real shame that he had to say that and a shame that Jack complied.

“Owen, it’s not working,” Jack said, looking at his medic.

“Fifteen seconds.” At least the countdown to his death was coming from a very nicely accented bit of eye candy.

“What are you doing?” Gwen asked frantically.

“Trying to confuse the disc,” the medic said through gritted teeth. John had to appreciate his ingenuity. It was a rather good solution for ten minutes of panicked thinking. But it wasn’t enough.

“Why hasn’t it worked?” Jack shouted, and oh, how John wished the worry was for him. But it wasn’t. It was all for his Gwen. He actually liked his little team. The times had really changed. 

“I don’t know.”

“Twelve seconds.”

“Jack, do something.” 

They were all so worried about her. They loved her. And because John had a nice side buried deep,  _ deep _ down, he felt pity for her. She was his passport to survival, but if they weren’t going to survive, then what was the point? Why leave Jack heartbroken (no matter how sweet that revenge would be) when he could leave him grateful? Use his last seconds to do something good for once in his shit life.

“Oh, fuck it,” John spat, and reached into his throat. No time to waste. He pulled out the key, unlocked the cuffs, then pushed Gwen away from him. “Run!” Gwen looked startled, but obeyed, her teammates grabbing her and pulling her away. Jack looked at him in shock as he stumbled to his feet. 

“John-” 

“I’ve got to go, Jack.” John forced himself to turn away. Even if Jack was immortal, no point in blowing him up too. Might traumatize the kiddos. He took a halting step toward the Rift, and the bomb fell off him. He winced in pain but managed to catch it. He laughed triumphantly; the medic’s little parlor trick had worked! Without any further hesitation, he hurled it into the Rift.

“Run!” Jack shouted, and they did. The blast knocked them both to the ground, debris from the explosion raining down on them. John didn’t mind. The pain meant he was alive. He took careful breaths, forcing himself to get to his feet as the team came running over to them.

“Jack, what’s going on?” Gwen asked. “Why’s it gone dark?” John looked around; oh, it had. Temporal displacement, he could taste it in the air. Not a fun side effect but a manageable one. Jack explained as much to his team. And then the medic explained the reason he was still breathing.

“You mean there’s a bit of all of you inside of me? Sweet goddesses, that’s all I need.” But then again, a manageable side effect assuming the blood didn’t clot and kill him. He turned to the medic. Owen. “Thank you.” Owen looked at him strangely but nodded.

“You’re welcome.” John could feel Jack’s gaze, but he didn’t turn to meet it. Instead, he looked for Gwen. Toshiko was close by her side, giving John an incomprehensible look. He took it to mean he had a shot. Gwen stood tall but was trembling slightly, from fear or from adrenaline. She coolly met his gaze.

“You let me go,” she said, tone curious despite the intensity of her gaze. John nodded. “Why?” John shrugged.

“No point in us both biting it. I’m not a monster. I just needed… leverage.” He glanced over at Jack, who was staring at him, face a blank slate. “No hard feelings,” he said, forcing his gaze back to Gwen. He smirked at her. “Well, not in that sense.” Gwen rolled her eyes and turned away.

“John,” Jack said. John turned to him slowly, smirk still frozen on his face. Jack was looking at him thoughtfully. It was a little scary actually. But then he held out his hand. Oh, right. John rolled his eyes, then pulled the bracer out of his jacket. He didn’t mind giving it back; it was busted anyway. Poor Jack. How long had he been stuck here in the bloody Silicon Age?

“Definitely bigger,” Jack said firmly, holding his bracer out before strapping it back on his arm. He was right, technically. But who cared about technicalities?

“If you need a new team member-” John suggested, only half-joking. He would go anywhere for Jack, but here? The booze was decent, and the people were pretty, but still. To his surprise, Jack was hesitating.  _ Considering. _ Maybe he actually had a shot. After all, he did have one more ace up his sleeve.

“By the way, I meant to tell you. I found Gray.”

* * *

“Nice digs,” John said begrudgingly. Jack pushed his shoulder, and he went a couple steps deeper into the flat. Torchwood had several properties scattered around the city, most belonging to former operatives. A perfect place to house temporally-displaced individuals or new recruits from out of town. John was both and more. “Fully monitored, I assume?”

“Audio and video,” Jack confirmed, shutting the door behind him. “And I’ll know if you tamper with the feeds.” John turned around and raised an eyebrow. “You’re good, but Tosh is better.” 

John’s work with Torchwood would be on a highly probationary basis with Jack reserving the right to throw him out on his ass if he stepped a toe out of line. They needed the help, and he couldn’t deny that John had the potential for reform, but Jack wasn’t about to trust him. Not that easily.

“Fine,” John relented. Jack watched as he paced around the flat, taking in the layout, noting possible exits, and wrinkling his nose at the half-worn furniture that the previous owner had left behind. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” he added, looking over his shoulder with a smirk.

“And nothing I’d like to see again,” Jack said firmly. John rolled his eyes, then disappeared into the bedroom. He was taking a risk here, letting John stay. But he’d picked up on the underlying tension in John’s every word, his every action. He was desperate, broken, and lonely. Good for him that Jack had a habit of taking in strays.

After a minute, John came back out. He grinned slightly, but Jack just crossed his arms. He didn’t want to spend a minute longer in John’s company; not tonight. He had teammates to try and reconcile with. But he had to know.

“Gray,” Jack said. John’s reaction was all but palpable, his shoulders stiffening, his eyes going wide. For all of a second, Jack saw real fear. And then it was gone, John grinning easily.

“Gray,” John echoed. He sat on the arm of the couch, wincing at how it creaked under his weight. “Not my color really, give me a nice crimson any day-”

“Did you really find him?” Jack snapped. There were a few moments of tense silence, then John nodded slowly. “Where is he?”

“Rehab. Referred him to my favorite clinic, decent food, hot-”

“Rehab?” Jack said, cutting John off again. “Why the hell is he in rehab?” John almost looked apologetic, and he seemed to consider his words before he spoke again.

“I found him chained up in the ruins of a city, surrounded by corpses. The Bedlam Outlands, nasty place. He was the only one left.” John looked away. “The creatures were long gone, otherwise I would have slaughtered them.” He smiled bittersweetly. “He thought I was the rescuing hero. He let me trust him. Or at least he thought he did. But I know fucked-up behavior when I see it.”

“What are you saying?” Jack said, dread running through his body like cold water. John looked at him, brow furrowed with anger.

“I’m saying that he learned terrible things watching those creatures. He spent the majority of his life in pain. And I can’t say I blame him for wanting to be behind the knife instead of under it.” John stood, the couch creaking its protest. “He wanted revenge. He blamed you.” Jack froze. Oh god.

“He’s right,” Jack stammered. “I let go of his hand.” John rolled his eyes and stepped closer. He took Jack by the shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes.

“You were a child, Jack,” John said slowly, stressing the word ‘child.’ “It’s not your fault.” Jack couldn’t look away. Deep down, he knew John was right. But if it wasn’t his fault, then it had to be- “It’s not Gray’s fault either.” Damn John for being a little bit psychic. “I don’t have to be psychic to know where your mind goes. This isn’t the first time I’ve tried to talk some sense into you.”

“John-” Jack started, but John shushed him. He raised a hand to Jack’s face and used his thumb to wipe away a tear that Jack hadn’t even noticed falling.

“It’s no one’s fault but those creatures,” John said firmly. “And hey, maybe one day you’ll get your revenge, but right now, you need to let it go.” He hesitated for a moment, then pulled Jack into a tight hug. So tight it was almost painful, but Jack didn’t complain. “You can’t keep carrying this weight with you.” Jack let out a laugh that ended in a sob as John pulled away.

“When did you get so,” - he waved a hand in the air, searching for the right word - “emotionally competent?” John let out a short bark of laughter.

“I’m really not. But I know that you take it all on yourself. You make the hard decisions, and you blame yourself for everything.” John shrugged. “You shouldn’t have to.” John looked straight at him, hesitated for a few moments, then leaned in and kissed him. Jack accepted it but didn’t kiss back. He loved John; part of him always would. But he wasn’t in love anymore. Not with him.

John pulled back after a moment or two, licking his lips. The look in his eye was almost predatory, but it vanished as soon as Jack spotted it. Jack shook his head lightly, trying to reorganize his thoughts.

“The flat,” Jack said, latching onto what they were here for. “It’s stocked with the basics, but assuming you last until the weekend, we’ll take you shopping.”

“Oh, goody,” John said sarcastically, clapping his hands together. He leaned in, a glint in his eyes. “So my salary then-”

“We’ll discuss it,” Jack said firmly. He reached in his pocket and pulled out the flat key. “And we’ll discuss this.” John held his hand out, but Jack closed his hand. “I’m locking you in; someone will be by in the morning to fetch you.” John pouted. “You’re not a prisoner, but I can’t have you galavanting around Cardiff unsupervised.”

“Oh, yes, I feel so free,” John said, spreading his hands. “You couldn’t even splurge on some nice cuffs.” Jack snapped his fingers.

“Don’t test me.” Jack smirked. “Be a good boy, and we’ll see about expanding your privileges.” John gave him a smirk that said he’d be just the opposite. They had liked that once upon a time.

“Such a tease,” John huffed. He stepped away and let himself fall back on the couch with a spring-breaking creak. “If you’re not gonna follow through, then you can let yourself out.” 

“So I shouldn’t tell you where I hid the vodka?” John’s head snapped up. Jack chuckled. 

“I said stop teasing,” John said, sitting up, the predatory glint back in his eye. Jack hiked a thumb at the kitchen.

“Second cabinet on left.” John grinned wide and scrambled to his feet. “Don’t drink it all because I don’t plan on funding your alcohol habit.” John just laughed and darted into the kitchen. Jack grinned despite himself and left. This might just work out.


	2. Sleeper - Ianto

John wasn’t sure this was going to work out. The work was easy enough; they mostly had him hunting Weevils and working with lovely Toshiko to make use of his vast store of alien knowledge. His new coworkers were… civil at best, but that was to be expected. He had been their enemy not more than a few weeks ago. He wasn’t kind to his enemies. But they were forgiving. It was strange.

Even the flat was alright, a good-sized bed and a second room that he’d converted into a makeshift gym. Jack had relented and given him the key after about a week, and he’d started getting paid not long after, an amount that had him wondering what was standard in this time. (He had not been allowed to keep his vortex manipulator, a fact he had protested vehemently. Jack had stood firm, damn him.) 

All in all, he had been left to his own (heavily-surveilled) devices. Jack had better things to do than babysit his ex. And that was the problem. John hadn’t realized just how much it would hurt to have Jack within sight but out of reach. It was worse now than the first days of his crush or even the time when they were firmly frenemies-with-benefits. Now he knew it was over. They’d had their last kiss, and the curtains were closing.

Not that John was jealous. He didn’t do jealous. But something still burned inside him, seeing Jack place a hand on Eye Candy’s shoulder and whisper something into his ear. He’d been replaced; he’d known it for a long time. But it still hurt.

He did his best to ignore it. This was his life now. Nothing was keeping him here, but he knew that he wasn’t going to leave unless he was forced. Jack was the center of his universe, always had been. It was a dysfunctional way to live, but he’d never been particularly functional. He’d hold his tongue, do his job, and flirt relentlessly with all of Torchwood. It was as expected.

It’s what he was doing while the rest of the team was out investigating a hinky-looking murder, badgering/flirting with Eye Candy. He had to give it to him; he was very good at ignoring John’s advances. He could strip off, and the most he would get from Ianto was an eye roll and maybe a glance.

Luckily, before long, Jack called. It was definitely their sort of murder, and they had a suspect. John clicked his tongue. It was always the wife. Although it wasn’t the husband who had died, so maybe she was innocent. Self-defense and all. Whatever it was, it meant interrogation. John loved interrogation. Jack may have been the go-to guy for torture, but John was no slouch. 

Unfortunately, when Jack hauled in the suspect, bag over her head, he banned John from talking to her. But he couldn’t stop him from watching. He cut an intimidating figure, and so Jack let him slip into the frankly disgusting interrogation room.

John watched quietly, face maliciously impassive as Jack played the suspect, Beth apparently, like a fiddle. She was adamant in her innocence, and John couldn’t spot any tells. Either she was actually innocent, or she was a hell of a good liar. He was definitely leaning toward the latter, especially after the light bulb blew.

Jack ordered tests. Had to know exactly what they were dealing with in Beth. John settled above the autopsy room, one foot on the railing, to watch. Two needles and a scalpel snapped on her skin, a history with no sickness or injury, and of course the electromagnetic build-up. Could be any of a dozen species. Unfortunately, most were hostile.

John laughed out loud when they pulled out the mind probe. It was so primitive, and yet according to them, it was the most advanced thing they had. Yet again, John wondered how Jack had managed to survive here. No advanced healing tech, no good mind-reading tech, no _hypervodka._ He suppressed a shudder.

“Your bedside manner’s rubbish,” Beth said, strapped into the chair, the primitive and painful probe on her head. 

“You should see his manners in bed. They’re atrocious, apparently. So I’ve heard,” Gwen chimed in. John grinned. Yes, yes, they were. Unfortunately, Eye Candy beat him to the punch, then Jack put an end to the whole thing. Spoilsport.

The probing began, and John watched coolly as Beth screamed in pain. Jack was good at playing bad cop, a role he used to leave to John. The lights started to flicker again as the probe drilled even deeper. The team started to protest, but Jack held firm. John was on his side. They had to know.

Beth passed out, then sat up, careful and mechanical. John watched, intrigued, as the skin on Beth’s arm shifted and twisted and lit up red. Everyone went silent, and John leaned in. “Oh, hello,” he breathed. Now, this he recognized. And they were probably fucked, but god, it was beautiful. Cell 114 was vicious, efficient, and had some absolutely stunning technology.

They gathered in the conference room afterward, and John watched with bored eyes as Jack explained what he already knew. He resisted the urge to put his foot up on the table. Eye Candy had banned him from doing exactly that, and because he was playing nice, he complied. Although he wondered what it would be like to get him mad. He’d seen a hint of the fire that burned inside, and he wanted more. He’d always been a bit of a slut for danger.

John was spinning idly in a chair when Jack and Gwen came back from the cells. He wondered how telling Beth that she was a sleeper agent sent to destroy the planet had gone. Not so well, he would imagine.

Cryogenics was a humane option but a risky one. John wasn’t sure why they wouldn’t just kill her. Turn off the forcefield and put a bullet between the eyes. Simple, permanent, and relatively painless. But no, Gwen was a bleeding heart, and so was Jack. He’d gone soft. John wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Crisis apparently over, John let himself relax, just a little bit. They might actually get to leave at a decent hour. He’d go to a bar, find something pretty, take them home, and not think about Jack or bloody Torchwood for a few hours. And so of course it was then that the lights blew.

Beth, or the alien Beth at least, was quite the escape artist. Rather smart too, faking her vitals and slipping out the back. Jack and Gwen went to chase after her, leaving John with Eye Candy, Toshiko, and Owen. Swell. 

He decided to take the time to flirt with Tosh while she steadfastly ignored him. It was almost like a little game; how many times could he make her blush? Currently, he could count the score on one hand, but he’d wear her down. Or he wouldn’t. She was a very determined woman; he liked that.

Either way, it was great fun until the Hub shook like an earthquake. Did they have earthquakes in Wales? Even if they did, apparently this time the disaster was a little more man-made. (Or alien-made? He’d work out the semantics later.)

A blown petrol tanker taking out an emergency military pipeline. The murder of the city coordinator. And finally, taking out the telephone network leaving Tosh swearing under her breath at her mobile. The entire city crippled by a handful of sleeper agents. John would be lying if he said he wasn’t impressed. 

John slowly approached the trio, squabbling over phones and tin cans, and cleared his throat.

“You know, I can call Jack if you just let me have my-”

“No,” Ianto snapped, not even looking John’s way. Ouch. He kept walking closer.

“If the telephone network’s down - primitive tech - you’re going to need me if you want to get in touch with Jack.” Tosh was looking thoughtful, and John grinned. Once she fell, so would the boys. “Otherwise, there no way you’ll be able to-”

“Tosh? Owen? Can you hear me?” John stifled a scowl as Jack’s voice came cracking out of the radio. Tosh rushed over to answer it while Owen smirked at John.

“Nice try, mate,” Owen said, clapping John on the shoulder as he passed by. John swallowed hard and resisted the urge to break his hand. Fairly certain that would be one of the ‘justifiable reasons to kick your arse out of the system’ that Jack had laid out. Instead, he hung back and listened as Jack revealed that it was all down to one guy, heading out to apparently the middle of nowhere. (It was never actually the middle of nowhere.)

“It’s almost obscene what you do to security systems,” Ianto said as Tosh hacked into the military files.

“Definitely obscene,” John murmured, watching the firewalls fall under her fingertips with ease. Unfortunately, nuclear warheads were a very efficient mood-killer. And a very efficient regular killer. One final sleeper agent plotting to use the Earth’s weapons against her. God, that was actually rather brilliant (although John couldn’t tell for the life of him why they had picked _Cardiff_ for their advance guard.)

At the center of the blast radius for nuclear warheads. Yet another chance for John to die a swift and painful death. Maybe he should have put more than two seconds of thought into joining Torchwood. Unfortunately for him, he hadn’t heard the rumors about Torchwood mortality rates until long after it was too late to turn back.

“With a dashing hero like me on the case, how can we fail?” Jack’s voice came over the radio before switching off. John rolled his eyes.

“He is dashing, you have to give him that,” Ianto said. John wanted to protest but couldn’t. Jack _was_ rather dashing, always had been. And now, he was even a hero. It was strange to see him live a life where he didn’t have to lie.

“And what if they can’t stop it?” Owen said, turning the mood somber again.

“They’ll stop it,” Tosh said confidently. He did so love an optimist. Well, loved to see them break at least.

“Yeah, but if they can’t?” Owen stressed.

“Then it’s all over,” Ianto said grimly. There were a couple of moments of silence, and then Owen quickly became John’s new favorite team member.

“Let’s all have sex.” John grinned. He could think of far worse ways to spend the last few minutes before nuclear holocaust than a foursome. This was in like his top three honestly, and the other two involved murder and/or Jack.

“And I thought the end of the world couldn’t get any worse,” Ianto said deadpan, casting dirty looks at Owen and John. John just leered back.

“C’mon,” he purred seductively. “Who’s it gonna hurt? And do you really want to spend the last minutes of your life panicked and praying?” 

“I want to spend the last minutes of my life with my dignity intact,” Ianto said coolly. Then he turned and walked away. John eyed his arse disappointedly, then turned his attention to Tosh.

“How about you then, gorgeous?” he purred, gently trailing fingers over her arm. “Care for a ride?” She blushed hard, muttered something under her breath, then fled after Ianto. A real pity but at least he’d scored another point in their game. He sighed and turned his gaze onto Owen.

“No,” the medic said rudely before leaving. John scoffed aloud.

“You suggested it!” he hollered at his retreating back. No response. “Bunch of prudes,” he muttered under his breath. Fine. They didn’t want to play, fine. Their mistake. They’d left him unattended. Time to raid Jack’s liquor cabinet.

(Un)fortunately, the world did not end. If it had, maybe John would have escaped the lecture about ‘respecting personal property’ and ‘appropriate workplace behavior.’ Never mind that Owen had propositioned them all. No, no, blame the man who didn’t want to be sober when dying in a nuclear attack. (It hadn’t even been good liquor.)

John was sitting on the shitty couch, the mostly empty bottle still in his hand. He was contemplating sneaking off early. What could they do? It’s not like they’d let him be useful. He was there because Jack wanted him to be, nothing more. He was only tolerated, and he knew it. (Alright, maybe the liquor hadn’t been good, but it had been strong.)

He lifted the bottle to his lips and was draining the final drops when he heard shouting. Beth, her alien knife arm fully extended, was threatening Gwen. Shit, had she been activated? The others leaped into action, guns in hand. John rushed to join them, reaching for his own.

Shockingly, Jack had allowed him to remain armed. Sort of. He’d been forced to turn all his personal weapons into the armory. But he had been issued a standard Torchwood handgun. It literally had ‘Torchwood’ carved into it. For a secret organization, they certainly had a lot of signage.

It was far from John’s favorite weapon, but a gun was a gun, and hours and hours of late-night practice had made him really quite competent. It was this gun now that he leveled at Beth’s head. Bit of a shame. He’d liked her. But sometimes you couldn’t deny your true nature.

Beth drew her arm back, and five gunshots rang out.

* * *

It wasn’t often that Ianto had to do this twice. He had really hoped that Suzie would be the exception to the rule. But here he was again, down in the vault, freezing Beth’s still-warm body. And this time he was alone. No Jack, no Gwen, no-

“It’s bloody freezing down here.” Ianto sighed and turned toward the door. John was skulking in the doorway, hands buried deep in his gaudy coat.

“It wouldn’t be a problem if you didn’t insist on wearing that knock-off military jacket,” Ianto said smoothly, turning his attention back to his clipboard. “Or you could leave.”  
“Hey, it is not a knock-off!” John complained, pointedly not leaving. Instead, he came closer, swaggering in like he owned the place. “This is genuine 39th-century military wear. In near new condition too.” Ianto glanced back at him.

“Sorry, did you say the 39th century?” John nodded. “I would have thought the 19th.”

“The seventies were a very retro decade,” John said, smirking. “The 3870s that is.” Ianto looked away. He could never tell if John was being genuine or if he was full of shit. Did that make him a good liar or a bad liar then? He resolved not to question it further. Not now at least.

“Did you want something?” Ianto said, letting his exasperation flood his voice.

“What, I can’t just say hi?” John responded evenly. He stood across from Ianto now, looking at him over Beth’s body. Ianto ignored how familiar this positioning felt.

“No, _you_ can’t,” Ianto said smoothly, eyes on the clipboard. “Go bother someone else.”

“Can’t. Toshiko and Owen already left, and Jack and Gwennie are having a… little chat in his office.” Ianto could hear the eyebrow raise, knew exactly what John was implying. He wasn’t worried; it was just how John talked. (It was a little disarming how quickly he had become a normal presence.)

“Don’t call her Gwennie,” was all Ianto said. “You don’t want to get on her bad side.”

“Oh, I think I can handle Ms. Cooper.” Ianto glared up at him, and he blinked in surprise. “But alright, noted.” He was gratefully silent for a moment and turned his attention back to the paperwork. He finished the notes on Beth’s species, what little they knew about it, and moved on to cause of death. He looked somberly down at Beth. She had been riddled with bullets, most in her torso but one through her head. She’d died instantly. One small mercy. (Another bullet had snapped her blade off. Somehow, Ianto knew that was Jack’s. He’d aimed for the weapon, not the woman.)

“Aim for the head,” John murmured. Ianto looked up, surprised. John had been watching him coolly. He grinned. “That’s what all the films say anyway.”

“She’s not a zombie,” Ianto said.

“True. If she were a zombie, fire would be much more effective.” Ianto scoffed and turned back to the clipboard. “But, no. I killed her.” Ianto’s head snapped up again. (If this kept happening, he was going to pull something.) “Right through the head. Clean shot, a mercy killing. It was what she wanted, wasn’t it?” Ianto nodded.

“She was fond of Gwen. She wanted to protect her. To protect all of us.” He gave John a look. “Although maybe if she’d talked to you, she would have reconsidered.”

“Hey, I will not be blamed for the downfall of the human race.” Ianto rolled his eyes. John gestured at himself. “I’m from the future, Eye Candy. I want to protect you lot. Otherwise, I might end up killing my great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great-”

“Are you done?”

“Technically, I’ve got about ninety more but fine,” John conceded. “I might end up killing my great, great grandmother. Cause a paradox, I’d cease to exist, the whole shebang.”

“If it gets you to leave me alone, then by all means, murder away,” Ianto muttered. Then he looked up and raised a finger. “Do not take that seriously.”

“Relax, Eye Candy; I do understand sarcasm.” John’s gaze flickered to the clipboard in his hands, then before Ianto could blink, he’d swiped it. “Well, looky here.”

“Oi, give that back,” Ianto said, holding out one hand. John ignored him, flipping through the report.

“So many pages for one little death. How do you handle all this paperwork?” Ianto stole the clipboard back with a scowl.

“I’d make you do it if your handwriting didn’t look like chicken scratch on crack,” Ianto muttered, filling out the last few details. It was a very accurate description. (Note to self, ask Jack about getting John regularly drug-tested/into local rehab.) 

“I’m sorry, you try to write in your third language with tech that’s three thousand years out of date and see how you do,” John complained. “Goddess forbid I not be perfect at everything.”

“Well, it wouldn’t hurt to practice,” Ianto said mildly. John threw his hands up in the air. 

“It takes bloody time,” John bitched. “What if I just handed you, I don’t know, a fucking clay tablet and told you to fill out your damn reports in cuneiform? Bet you couldn’t master that in three weeks.” Ianto took on a thoughtful look, and John rolled his eyes. “You’re joking.”

“I know everything,” Ianto said innocently, clipping his pen to the clipboard. John let out a huff and half-turned away. Ianto took a final look at Beth, then slid in her drawer and closed the door. John looked back as he did up the latch. Ianto met his gaze. “Is English really your third language?” John’s eyes went wide for just a second, then he grinned easily.

“Well, yeah. I’m not actually English. Not even 51st-century English.”

“Despite the accent,” Ianto said, completely deadpan. John laughed.

“It’s all just part of the persona.” He cleared his throat, and when he spoke again, it was clearly American. “It just so happens that Captain John landed in Britain. Would have been quite different if he’d gone to Cali or New New York.” Ianto rolled his eyes.

“So what do you actually sound like then?” Ianto asked, only half-jokingly. John grinned.

“That, my friend, is classified information,” he warbled in an actually halfway-decent James Bond impersonation. Damn him. He grinned at Ianto, then pushed away from where he was leaning against the wall. “Don’t keep Jack out too late,” he said, accent back to ‘normal.’ “He gets cranky if he doesn’t get a solid six hours.”

“He doesn’t sleep anymore,” Ianto said coldly. Not technically accurate but it was worth it for the look of shock on John’s face. He masked it quite quickly and grinned.

“Then don’t let him wear you out,” John said. He leaned in and smirked. “Although you look like a man with a fair bit of stamina-”

“Good night, John,” Ianto said firmly. John laughed and headed for the exit.

“Good night, Eye Candy,” he said, waving a hand in farewell. Once he was gone, Ianto let out a breath of not-quite-relief. Jack may have trusted him enough to let him on the team, and Ianto trusted Jack. But he didn’t trust John. Not until he did something to earn it. And perhaps not even then.


End file.
